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Full

Kilmo

    ‘Watch where you’re going Jerone.’
    The car swerved to the left, bouncing round another bend on springs that sounded more rust than metal. When Mikeli looked behind he couldn’t see so much as a pothole in the road there was that much smoke in it.
    ‘Quit complaining, if you hadn’t nicked the worst banger on the island we’d be there already.’
    ‘How was I to know the gasket was gone? It looked good when it was parked.’
    ‘To you maybe.’
    Mikeli eyed a wheel hub as it span into the abyss and decided to keep his mouth shut, they’d be there in a minute or two.
    ‘You paying attention Gas? This is it.’
    ‘You think he’s going to be pissed off?’
    ‘No, the last load we brought him no one saw him for a week.’
    The car screeched round the last bend losing a few more bolts from the bumper as it scraped a furrow along a wall and came to a halt.
    ‘How you doing boss? We got here as quick as we could.’
    The man leaning against the wall was silent for a moment silently shaking his head as the rest of the gang climbed from the car. When he spoke, his eyes were hidden by the sun going down.
    ‘I was happy with the last bit of work you did for me. You did well.’ He shrugged and pushed his trilby back with a forefinger, ‘But, you need to learn to treat the past with more respect. It has lessons to teach. I’ve something a little more unusual for you this time.’
    ‘What is it? Kidnapping? Extortion? Counterfeiting? ...Tourism? I love it when we scam those bastards.’
    ‘None of those exactly. Mikeli.’ There’s been something I’ve wanted to try for a while; I’ve just been waiting for the right person. Now, I think I’ve the man.’
    ‘Who boss?’
    ‘You know that Jew’s down in the village; the one with the moustache?’
    ‘Of course, but I haven’t seen him in a while.’
    It might have been Jerone’s imagination, but the boss seemed to step back a little then; like he wanted them to get an extra good look at the curtains he’d had imported from Chile. They looked like leather stretched over the cabin windows like that and there was just enough sunlight left to turn them a little pink like the skin of a pig.
    ‘He had to leave.’ The Capo smiled, and the setting sun finally found his eyes then. Jerone had seen wolves on the mainland look like that once or twice, but whatever the boss really was it wasn’t a wolf.
    ‘What do you want us to do?’
    ‘There’s a machine out back. It’s been gathering dust in the barn since gramps passed on.’
    ‘God rest his soul.’
    Mikeli raised his eyes to heaven as Gas clapped his hands together, ‘Is it one of his party tricks? I love those things.’
    ‘Control yourself Gas, remember who you’re talking to.’
    ‘No problem Jerone, your boy’s Ok. But, it isn’t, the last one took too long to clean up. It’s one of my father’s old projects. I think he adapted it from something he found on the farm.’
    There was that smile again, Jerone had once seen the boss gut a man with the exact same expression on his face.
    ‘Where is he?’
    El Capo pointed toward the valley bottom.
    ‘The kid will be down there. Should be in the synagogue about now.

...

    ‘Stop that; you keep struggling you’ll only make it worse.’
    Gas dropped the sack he’d been carrying over one shoulder and took a step back after giving it a few boots for good measure. It had been his turn to do the dirty work, and he was nursing the beginnings of a savage black eye.
    ‘Looks like he gave you some trouble.’
    ‘Nothing we couldn’t handle.’
    ‘Then we can begin.’
    The Boss stepped from the shadows where he’d been listening to the cicadas sing. ‘Bring him to the barn,’ He ground his cigarette out with the heel of a boot and the gang scurried to follow dragging the sack over the ground to the sound of muffled screams.
    ‘They say the Jews make the best soap. I’m going to find out.’
    The gang eyed each other nervously; last time the boss had decided to get his hands dirty they’d been mopping up corpses for a week.
    ‘You sure you want to do this, boss? They might come looking.’
    Mikeli had just finished a stint inside, he wasn’t in a hurry to go through it again.
    ‘Just do what I tell you, that’s what you’re paid for. That thing’s been sitting in the barn since I was a kid. I want to see what it can do.’
    El Capo kicked the door open and gestured at the mass of wooden joists sat in the middle. None of the gang had been inside before, and they tried to avoid looking too long at what was hanging on the walls. They valued their sleep.
    ‘Put him in.’
    The thing the boss was pulling a sheet off reminded Mikeli of the organo they had in Church.
    ‘Been in the family for generations, back when this place was all wolves; and worse.’
    The Boss ran his hands lovingly over the contraptions sides giving its cogs an experimental turn.
    ‘What’s your name boy?’
    The voice from the bag sounded like it was missing a few teeth. Gas tried to shuffle his boots behind his back.
    ‘Vissenta.’
    Well Vissenta, we’re going to try a little something on you. Make as much noise as you like. I buried the neighbours out back when I was sixteen.
    The sun was just coming up when the barn doors burst open, and they ran out.
    ‘Jesus Christ and all the sacred angels I didn’t think he’d ever stop screaming.’
    Jerone was as white as the flints you found in the fields.
    ‘There was a lot of him.’ That was Mikeli in between retches as he lost what was left of his dinner.
    ‘These are my best clothes.’
    ‘What are you doing wearing them on a job for then?’ Jerone gave Gas a clip round the ear, ‘You should know better.’
    ‘He’s coming; get ready.’
    El Capo stepped into the dawn light mopping at his face with a handkerchief. Mikeli was surprised he thought it would make any difference seeing as the thing was so saturated with blood it dripped on the floor.
    ‘That was messier than I expected.’ The boss grinned letting the light catch his teeth. ‘I didn’t think there’d be so much to take out.’
    He was still looking at them when the pitch fork appeared through his chest. That would have been bad enough thought Mikeli, even after what they’d seen, but what was behind him was far worse.
    ‘Hey, take it easy Vissenta. We were only having a little fun.’
    Mikeli knew the words sounded stupid when you were addressing something that looked like an empty paper bag. But, what else was he supposed to say? The kid was bound to be annoyed now most of him was in a heap on the floor. Vissenta threw what was left of the boss off the end of the fork and got to work on Gas and Jerone without stopping to say a word. Mikeli had gotten as far as the car before the tines pinned his face to the door.
    Vissenta slumped back, in fact, he did a lot more than that. He was as boneless as a jellyfish, and he couldn’t see anymore; his eyes had been one of the first things to go. When they’d got started in on the bones, he’d given up fighting. There wasn’t much you could do when you were strapped down anyway, so he’d concentrated on screaming instead. He vomited up what was left of his spleen and let it dribble off his chest. He had to get out of there. The Capo was bad, but his wife was a lot worse.
    He could still move though, so he flopped and rolled until he was tumbling down the mountainside before anyone turned up to finish the job. As he fell through the woods getting torn and scratched to smithereens he had time to think it could be worse; there could have been something left inside him to damage.
    That was where Crina found him, torn and bloody by the roadside; looking about as human as road kill. She pulled her Bimmer to a halt and got out cursing God the weather and everything within a hundred mile radius. Crina knew how to curse; she’d been born two-thirds Romanian, and she was proud of it.
    ‘What the hell are you?’
    She prodded the bloody rags lying in the road with her stick and took a step back half expecting them to swarm up it. Crina pulled her carpet tight around her shoulders. It was cold out here this close to winter.
    ‘I get a feeling you were a man.’ She bent down a little closer rubbing her forefinger and thumb over the skin, avoiding the stump of something that looked suspiciously like a tongue. ‘It’s a fine pelt, though, could come in useful, there’s always the market.’
    She flicked it up on the end of her stick and used the central locking to pop the boot of her car. One of the family could clean it out later. As she shut the lid she heard what sounded like a whimper.
    ‘Quiet in there.’
    She slammed her arse down on the lid enough times the Bimmer was in danger of bouncing off the road. Whatever it was it was clearly better under lock and key until she’d gotten to the bottom of it.
    ‘Strange, if I didn’t know better I’d be sure it was trying to speak.’
    She drove the rest of the way home listening to Wagner’s ‘Flight of The Valkyries’ as she hummed to herself. They’d finished putting the gold plastic lions on her gates yesterday, and the sprinklers made them cry tears.
    ‘Home sweet home.’
    A girl appeared out of the nest of caravans lugging some steps so she could get out without getting mud on her shoes. Crina tapped a little ash on her head and ignored her; making sure the gold rings she’d bought in town clanked loudly.
    ‘Take what’s in the boot to the laundry. I’ll be along as soon as I’ve found a hammer and nails.’
    It was broad daylight by the time she finished attaching the skin to the post that normally held one end of her washing. Crina dug about for some tobacco and tamped a generous wedge into her pipe before sitting back in her favourite chair to think. Everyone knew an empty skin was fine when the sun was up; after nightfall it was a different matter.
    ‘Normally, I’d just let the kids have you.’
    She squinted at the thing hanging limply from its peg. There were some Roman letters on one shoulder, and one of them was upside down.
    ‘I know who you are. You’re that lad that let Teresa practice on you. Oi, you.’ She poked the skin in the side with the end of her long handled pipe. ‘Don’t pretend you can’t hear me; I can hear you breathing.’
    ‘It’s the wind.’
    ‘It isn’t; you’re that Jew down in the village’s son aren’t you? What’s left of him anyway, what happened?’
    ‘The Capo’s men came. I think he killed my father.’
    There was a muffled sob.
    ‘I told him he should have known better. Now, listen there are two ways this can go. One is I have to perform some very complicated rituals, and sacrifice a chicken or two. The other is you listen to me and do what I tell you. I have a job offer for you.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Well, you’re dead. That’s normally not a problem; most people that have had their insides pulled out decide it’s time to vacate the building so to speak. You’re the other sort, but there’s no way you’re going to be any use in this world without a little help, trust me.’
    ‘I’m not dead; I can still move, I can still talk.’
    Crina shook her head.
    ‘That’s where you’re wrong son. The only way you’re moving is if I let you. You’re sat on valuable real estate. I reckon you could fit forty, maybe fifty packages inside you at a pinch.’
    ‘So what do you want me to do?’
    ‘Simple,’ said Crina with the widest smile she’d got. ‘I’m into storage, long term, short term. You name it I’ll look after it. My problem is I’ve run out of room; she waved a hand at the caravans. You, however, have plenty. We’ll start with something small.’
    She grabbed a cat that had been winding round her legs and stuffed it into Vissenta’s mouth, watching as the bump slid toward its stomach like a boa constrictor being fed a goat.
    ‘How’d you feel?’
    The skin burped, and Crina stepped back a pace.
    ‘It’s a bit uncomfortable.’
    She watched the bulge chase itself round the skins midriff before replying.
    ‘Thought you might feel like that. What’s your name kid?’
    ‘Vissenta’ said the skin as Crina hurried to get something else to feed it. She was thinking a dog would do, of course, the pair would chase each other half to death down there, but it was bound to get a bit of weight inside him. She didn’t want him floating off, and the shadows spreading from the trees wouldn’t like the racket.
    It was when she got to the child that Vissenta decided he’d had enough.
    ‘I’m not eating that.’
    By now the skin was pretty bloated, and she’d had to plug the rents in its hide with corks. It’s voice sounded like it was bubbling from the bottom of a sewer too, but there was no denying Vissenta really was having none of it.
    ‘Why not? No one’s going to miss her. I got her from one of my nieces. They’ve got loads to spare. I can’t count how many are back there; not these days.’
    The kid looked down at her feet as if she was about to get a hiding and Vissenta began to thrashed about as he tried to tear himself off the nails.
    ‘Stop that; you’ll hurt yourself.’
    ‘More than now? I feel like I’ve eaten half the farmyard.’
    ‘You have.’
    They listened to the silence; not even the birds were tweeting anymore. Vissenta gave what he hoped was a decorous burp, and continued.
    ‘She’s too big; she’ll get stuck.’
    ‘Nonsense.’
    ‘Try making me.’
    That was like waving a red rag at bull, but Vissenta didn’t care. It had been a rough night and even rougher day. He changed his mind not long after she got the hammer out though.
    ‘If you don’t eat her I’m going to make you.’
    With a sigh he let what was left of his jaw drop open.
    ‘There’s always room for one more, I suppose.’
    ‘Off you go honey.’
    Crina gave the kid a kick in the small of her back that sent her flying straight into Vissenta’s gob with her pigtails going flipper flap like the wings of a bird. He snapped his mouth shut and they looked at her shoes standing their sweet and pungent where Crina’s foot had launched their owner through the air.
    ‘Well, she won’t be coming back from that in a hurry.’
    After that, it was all business, although she let Vissenta stay nailed to the post for a day or two so his food could go down. When she came back, she had something behind her back and sweat on her brow.
    ‘Open wide.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Stop blubbering, you’re in my yard. Now open up.’
    Vissenta would have protested more, but there wasn’t much he could do now he was just a skin. The gypsy woman’s fingers were stronger than bear traps as she forced his mouth open and dropped the anchor in.
    ‘Heads up below.’
    The echoes as Crina finished bellowing were so loud the ringing went on until he heard a car starting up. He didn’t even have time to struggle before the anchor chain went whip tight and there was a whine as the engine revved and a dog popped out clinging on for dear life. It wasn’t long before a cat, and half a cow followed (he’d had to digest something after all). Then finally out came the kid. She was a little grey around the gills and the colour of day-old meat, but she was still breathing nonetheless.
    Crina reappeared as the motor cut off and the contents of Vissenta’s stomach lay gasping on the floor.
    ‘Now, there’s work that needs doing. I have half a dozen Syrians on the run from Russia’s FSB and a party of vampires from Brussels to hide.’
    After that Vissenta hardly had a moment to stop and think as people started appearing all over Crina’s farm. There was every nationality under the sun, from Albanians to Japanese, and they all disappeared inside him one by one. Soon he was the size of a whale and Crina had to take some of the corks she’d put in him out to let the air escape. It worked, though, after a while they had the cops round flat footing it about the yard; pocking their noses into caravans and hay bales, complaining about the noise. But, they never found a thing. No one wanted to ask the overweight man sat at the centre of proceedings to open wide, and if one or two of them noticed the odd bulge in Vissenta’s side, they didn’t say a thing. Instead, they just looked at him oddly and made the sign of the cross.
    It was the little girl that ruined everything.

...

    ‘What do you want?’
    It was after dark, but the moon was shining so bright it might as well have been the middle of the day.
    ‘Nothing.’
    Vissenta frowned and let a bit of Albanian fall onto the grass. The Eastern Europeans were kicking up a fuss again and he didn’t need the aggravation.
    ‘Buzz off, I’m trying to sleep.’
    ‘But, I want to know where they all go. They can’t all disappear inside you.’
    Vissenta wobbled menacingly, but the child wouldn’t budge. She just stood there picking her nose
    ‘Don’t do that. It’s unsanitary.’
    ‘Why?’
    The girl reached out a finger to play with one of the corks in Vissenta’s side instead.
    ‘Watch it, you don’t know what you’re doing.’
    Vissenta was pretty sure that particular cork was the only thing stopping the Javanese Witch Doctors from escaping, but that was the least of his worries. If she dislodged one, who knew where it would end? When the pop came, and the girl disappeared into a haystack head first he wasn’t that surprised.
    ‘I bloody told you.’
    Cork after cork began to zhing through the night, and the people trapped inside him really started kicking off as Vissenta blundered into the trees trailing everything from Nigerian to Kazakh. He had to be at least twenty stone lighter in minutes and dropping fast. Pretty soon his feet only skimmed the earth, and a storm was picking up. It was exactly what Crina hadn’t wanted.
    ‘Got you, now where do you think you’re going?’
    She landed on his shoulders with a thump that pushed the last of her clients from his mouth hard enough to lose teeth if he’d had any left, and for the first time in months, he really felt Ok. The only problem was the gypsy. She was holding a pair of scissors the size of shears, and she had an evil little grin on her face.
    ‘Sorry, my love. You’ve too many holes in you now to be much use, but I’ve something else you can do.’
    Vissenta didn’t have time to scream as she got to work snipping and slicing like she was cutting a cake.
    ‘There, that’ll do. About time I went for a different style.’
    Crina’s carpet lay discarded on the floor doing its multi-coloured best to pretend it had been through worse as its owner finished shrugging her way into her new Vissenta.
    ‘Now, I wonder where I’ll get the next one.’

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